


Rock Bottom

by Kyle_Swings_Blue_and_Gray



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BMW, Biting, Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Coming Untouched, Consensual Underage Sex, Creampie, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Kavinsky is his own warning, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Ronan Lynch, Prostate Massage, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex in a Car, Smut, Swearing, Unhappy, Vomiting, Wet & Messy, consensual drunk sex, don't drink and drive, very drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 18:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17167118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyle_Swings_Blue_and_Gray/pseuds/Kyle_Swings_Blue_and_Gray
Summary: Ronan cracked open another beer, tossing the can from the last one onto the floor. The alcohol seemed to both dampen his stinging pride, and magnify his anger. Ronan wanted desperately to hurt Gansey the way Gansey had hurt him. In all the years of their friendship, Gansey had never denied Ronan Monmouth. Ronan tried hard not to think about what he had done. Tried not to remember Gansey’s horror stricken face as he had observed the shattered window, the splattered wall paper, the explosion of Ronan’s destructive soul. Instead, Ronan picked up his phone scrolled through his contacts until he came across Kavinsky’s number.





	Rock Bottom

Ronan was drunk. His vision swam, and his stomach churned, and still he drank. It wasn’t like he had tried to keep the fact that his suicide was fake a secret; it had just been a secret, because it was connected to Ronan’s other, bigger secret. Now that Gansey knew, he didn’t have the same restraint when it came to fighting with Ronan, and Ronan had ended up outside Monmouth, told to “Come back when you’re ready to act like a person.” The words had stung Ronan, and now they seemed to be worming their way into his very soul. Ronan shivered. He was now seated in the front seat of the BMW, because he was 17 and couldn’t very well sit in a bar and be miserable. 

Ronan cracked open another beer, tossing the can from the last one onto the floor. The alcohol seemed to both dampen his stinging pride, and magnify his anger. Ronan wanted desperately to hurt Gansey the way Gansey had hurt him. In all the years of their friendship, Gansey had never denied Ronan Monmouth. Ronan tried hard not to think about what he had done. Tried not to remember Gansey’s horror stricken face as he had observed the shattered window, the splattered wall paper, the explosion of Ronan’s destructive soul. Instead, Ronan picked up his phone scrolled through his contacts until he came across Kavinsky’s number. 

Ronan had to squint to keep his phone screen in focus, and when Kavinsky picked up, he realized he hadn’t thought of what he was going to say. Kavinsky filled the silence with his sharp angular voice that always sent an invisible shiver down Ronan’s spine. Ronan could comprehend the fact that a voice couldn’t be angular, as it couldn’t have sharp angles, but the words seemed to best ft how Kavinsky’s voice sounded to him. 

“Lynch? What do you want, Princess?” Ronan struggled to fit together his words clearly. 

“I want you...to come over to the strip mall. Um parked outside.” Ronan was losing the battle to keep his words clear. 

When Kavinsky’s voice sounded again in Ronan’s ear, it had lost it’s usual mocking tone. “Are you completely hammered, Lynch?” Ronan swallowed.

“Yeah. And I’m fuckin’ horny. Get your ass over here or...I’ll come find you.” Ronan struggled to put a sentence together that wasn’t needy, or incomprehensible. 

He wasn’t sure if he had done well, or failed completely, because K’s response wasn’t the sneering thing he had expected. “Fine. I’ll be over. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t wanna have to scrape your face off a fucking pole or roll your body out of a bloody ditch. Ronan closed his eyes, leaning back against the seat. He pushed back Gansey’s angry, disappointed words with another gulp of beer, and thoughts of the last time he had caved and let Kavinsky’s persistent texts draw him out of Monmouth. Ronan palmed his erection through his jeans. He felt a bit frantic; his skin felt too tight and hot, and arousal and nausea seemed to dance together in the pit of his stomach. Ronan wasn’t a fucking lightweight. He could carry his booze, but this was a lot of alcohol, and even Ronan was caving.

Kavinsky wrenched open the door to the BMW, and stood, looking down at Ronan. “You are a fucking mess, Lynch.” He commented. Ronan opened his eyes, to look up at Kavinsky’s smudged form. “What happened, Dick III your sorry ass?” Ronan shook his head slightly, but it made his head spin so he stopped. 

“I need you to fuck me.” He said simply. Kavinsky smirked, and Ronan felt relief rush through him. This was the way it was supposed to be. When Kavinsky pulled Ronan out of the front seat and unceremoniously shoved him into the back seat, he wasn’t gentle, and Ronan found himself spread across the back seat after a dizzying handful of seconds. Then Kavinsky was in, and he was grinding himself up against Ronan’s ass, Ronan groaned, all inhibitions gone. 

“I like it when you’re drunk.” Kavinsky whispered into Ronan’s ear. “I like it when you ask for what you want.” Ronan groaned again, which was muffled when Kavinsky’s shoved him back against the seat, face down. Ronan felt a filthy sort of arousal surging up inside of him. Kavinsky was using him. Ronan felt the tight hot coil burning low in the pit of his stomach, and when Kavinsky smacked his ass, he nearly lost his load all over the inside of his jeans. He did his best to grip the base of his erection through his jeans, and friction was almost painful. “I’m impressed.” Kavinsky hissed in his ear, “Most of the time, people who are completely wasted can’t do much fucking, but you seem to be a pro. 

Ronan squirmed when Kavinsky pressed two lubed up fingers against his entrance. They pushed inside easily, and Ronan tried to grind his hips back against Kavinsky’s hand. Kavinsky added a third finger, curling them suddenly in a way that had Ronan seeing stars. A stream of obscenities poured from his lips, as Kavinsky tugged his jeans down to his knees, fully exposing his ass and allowing Ronan’s neglected dick to hang heavily between his thighs. 

“I need you inside me.” Ronan got out, and he could feel Kavinsky smirking behind him as he manhandled Ronan into an upright position. Ronan nearly lost it again at the feeling of being handled so roughly, only staving off his orgasm with the sudden rush of nausea that warred with his arousal. He groaned, both from discomfort and arousal. Kavinsky began to suck a bruise into Ronan’s neck, and Ronan hiccupped rather embarrassingly and dribbled precom onto the leather seats of his car. Kavinsky snaked a hand around to Ronan’s stomach, supporting him and rubbing across Ronan’s stomach as he bit at Ronan’s neck, before pushing his dick into Ronan’s ass. 

Ronan dropped his head back against Kavinsky’s shoulder, while Kavinsky began to thrust shallowly in and out of Ronan’s hole. Ronan felt the tight spring coiling quickly in his the pit of his stomach, and began to groan more loudly. 

“K, I’m gonna come.” He groaned, ‘K...K…” Kavinsky shifted his angle slightly, beginning to hit Ronan’s prostate. Ronan felt his balls tighten, and watched as his cock spattered and gushed seamen all across the seat. He immediately felt reality closing in, but Kavinsky didn’t give it the option. He continued to hammer Ronan’s prostate, even as Ronan cried out from the sensitivity. The sensitivity and pressure built, warring with one another until the pleasure won out. Ronan was groaning and rocking back against Kavinsky, his prick twitching between his leg as began to harden again. Kavinsky continued to slam into him, and he was beginning to get more vocal, grunting and gasping as he neared the end. He slipped two fingers into Ronan’s mouth, and Ronan sucked on them, messily and wetly. 

“I’m gonna come inside you.” K began to hiss into Ronan’s ear. “I’m gonna fill you up. Make you mine. You’re going to be dripping with my come. It’s gonna roll out of your asshole and down your thighs, and you aren’t going to be able to do a fucking thing about it.” Ronan groaned, K’s words pushing him impossibly closer to his second orgasm in as many minutes. Kavinsky came with a shout. Ronan could feel him spurting deep inside of him, and it just seemed to keep going and going. Ronan clenched against K, causing him to groan and shiver against Ronan. Once K had come down, he pulled back out of Ronan, bringing his sopping fingers down to abuse Ronan’s prostate further while his other hand kept Ronan upright while playing with his slit. With a shocking thrill, Ronan felt the first of Kavinsky’s seed began to leak of of his hole. He clenched against Kavinsky’s fingers in an attempt to keep it in, but it ended up leaking down his thighs just as Kavinsky had said it would. Ronan’s hips jerked, and this time it was more like a little gush across the seats. He slumped forward on to the seats, basking in the afterglow for as long as his body would let him. 

Ronan could feel his stomach starting to seriously churn, and he somehow managed to stumble out of his car before he began to vomit. He threw up until there wasn’t anything left inside him, until he was just gagging on stomach acid, before he stumbled back to his car and passed out. 

When Ronan woke, it was to find himself half naked, sprawled in the front seat of his car, still covered in his own seamen. Kavinsky was gone. Ronan closed his eyes against his splitting headache, leaning forward to rest his face against the steering wheel, which was pleasantly cool. How much lower could he go from here? In Ronan’s mind, this was it. Rock fucking bottom. He brought a hand up to rub at his forehead, and it brushed against something hanging from his rear-view mirror. When Ronan looked, up, he was surprised to see his keys, padlocked to his rearview mirror. Stuck to the padlock was a piece of paper. Ronan plucked it off. 

The paper said, in Kavinsky’s spiky scrawl, “33-15-22” followed by, “call me next time, Princess.” Ronan felt his stomach flip, although that could just be the hangover. Maybe rock bottom had it’s sick, twisted benefits.

**Author's Note:**

> I am by no means condoning this behavior. I simply think it fits with the characters I love. Drop a comment if you thought this was hot.


End file.
